


Angels We Have Heard on High

by candygramme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/pseuds/candygramme
Summary: "Dude, there's an angel on top of the tree," Sam muttered.  "No, really, there's an angel on the top of the tree."
Kudos: 8





	Angels We Have Heard on High

"Angels We Have Heard On High"  
By: candygramme  
Wordcount: 3175  
Beta:spoonlessone  
Rating: Gen  
Warnings: Balthazar supervising is never a good idea  
Prompt: _There's an angel on top of the Christmas tree. No, really, there's an angel on top of the Christmas tree_

~*~

Something was bothering Castiel. He'd been following Dean around all day looking sullen, although with Cas it was hard to tell. Dean had done his very best to ignore him, but finally he'd cracked. Folding his arms across his chest in his most forbidding manner, he'd raised one eyebrow, heaved the kind of impatient sigh that would quell pretty much anyone who wasn't a socially inadequate multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent.

"What?" 

Cas had the grace to look a little chastened for a moment, but he stood his ground, eyes of limpid blue blinking soulfully as he skewered Dean with an accusatory stare that would have had any lesser man down on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

Dean sighed again. "Cas, what?"

"Don't you intend to honor the day of our Lord's birth?" The expression on Castiel's face would melt the hearts of hardened criminals. Dean merely snorted.

"I don't think so. I haven't noticed him honoring the day of _my_ birth." Turning on his heel, he made for the door of the squat they had staked out. Clapping Sam on the shoulder as he passed, he murmured that he was heading over to the bar on the corner to see if he could hustle some cash. A moment later, the door closed behind him, and he was gone.

"God hasn't done either of us any favors, Cas." Sam looked up from the table where he was poring over an ancient tome with illuminated lettering. "Dean's got no reason to celebrate Christmas." He gestured around himself at the broken window that had card taped over it to stem the drafts and the mildewed drywall where the damp had leeched through from outside. 

"A little celebration would give you a lighter heart." Castiel's normal monotone was unaccountably missing. He obviously felt very strongly about the subject. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "Good luck convincing Dean of that."

Castiel stood gazing down on Sam for a few seconds, and then winked out without saying anything further. Sam shrugged his shoulders and returned to his studies.

~*~

The meeting room at the Venetian Hotel, Las Vegas, was filled with entities that would never ordinarily dream of being seen together.

"But we owe it to them to assist them in their search for happiness..." Castiel was looking almost animated as he addressed the assembly of creatures he'd summoned. One of the dragons belched dyspeptically, and the smoke temporarily made everyone present cough.

"Says who?" murmured Crowley, who had suddenly materialized, and was now sitting at his ease on the only comfortable chair in the room, sipping what appeared to be a crystal tumbler full of amber liquid.

"Nobody invited you." Gabriel, unaccountably clad in a matador's suit that sparkled with sequins and beads, and smelling strongly of Estee Lauder's Cinnabar, conjured a Skor bar out of thin air and tore it open, scattering the wrapper without any effort to look for a trash can. "Why are you even here?"

"I'm actually hurt," said Crowley, looking mournful and clutching at the place where a heart might be, if he actually had one. "Moose and Squirrel have always been very useful to me. I'm extremely fond of them."

"There seems little point in providing them with opportunities for levity," announced Death around a large mouthful of japadog. "Life is hard; then you die. Could I trouble you to pass the mustard please?" He inclined his head in a courtly gesture of thanks when Ganesh plucked it from the table with his trunk and passed it over."

"That's a little harsh, daddy." Tessa the reaper was frowning. "They've had a hard road, and they still have such a long way to go before they can rest. I think they deserve a little fun."

Death was about to respond when Balthazar, bored with the bickering, decided to redirect the conversation once more. "So what precisely did you have in mind, Cas?"

"I think they deserve to experience Christmas. I want them to have gifts and decorations, and a party with food." He nodded. "Food would definitely be acceptable to Dean."

"I agree." Meg had been sitting in a corner, well away from the King of Hell, but now she came forward to cuddle up to Castiel. "Dean let me drive his car. I think he deserves a reward for that."

Elegantly dabbing at his mouth with a monogrammed napkin, Death nodded. "Very well. I shall provide the catering."

"I can provide a tree," announced Crowley, looking faintly pleased with himself.

"It had better be a Christmas tree and not anything poisonous." Tessa fixed Crowley with a look that dripped venom.

"Nothing was further from my thoughts," smirked Crowley, and raised his glass to her as he disappeared from view, taking the chair with him.

"I will bring wine. I'm sure they'll like it. It will be red." The Alpha Vamp nodded as he elbowed Benny in the ribs. Benny nodded too and they both turned to leave.

"So that's all settled then." Gabriel's suit flashed on and off as he spoke. "I think I'll take care of the decorations. I'll suspend chocolate all over the tree. The rest of us need to contribute whatever we can. It's a date."

In the next moment, the meeting room was empty, and the hotel employee who had been attempting to open the door finally heard the lock click and fall inside it, wondering what had made the door stick like that.

~*~

It was twilight, that sweet moment of indifference between day and night. Sam and Dean had emerged from their current squat and headed off to deal with a ghost that only manifested itself on Christmas Eve at midnight. They were loaded up with their weapons of ghost destruction, and as they made their way to the Impala, Dean, who seemed to be in a reasonably cheerful mood, could be heard whistling.

"Hey, Sam," he called as he unlocked the Impala. "How do you flatten a ghost?"

"Go on," growled Sam, one eyebrow raised. "I'll buy it."

"You need a spirit level," announced Dean, smirking and climbing into the car. Sam stood, shaking his head and smiling. Sometimes, it seemed, you just had to take one for the team. Dean was happy, and Sam was determined to keep it that way.

Clambering in beside his brother, he pulled the door closed, and without further ado, drove away into the lavender gloom of approaching night.

As the car receded out of sight, a small band of angels pinged into view. 

"Okay, boys, " called Balthazar, who appeared to have appointed himself foreman. "Let's get started. Who's got the tinsel?"

"I broke into stores and found a pack of unused haloes," announced Raphael, popping into view in a cloud of sparkles. 

"That's thinking outside the box," said Gabriel, staggering in with his arms full of holly, ivy, mistletoe and fir. "You think you could maybe do a little tidying up before we start hanging things up? It's not exactly what you'd call _cheerful_ , is it?" He pointed disdainfully at the mold that was growing up the wall beside the door. 

Castiel had been standing watching, but now he stepped forward and gestured. The crumbling plaster and mildewed furniture seemed to give themselves a shake, and then slowly begin to restore themselves. When he was done, he wiped his brow. Balthazar applauded, and Gabriel smirked at him. 

"Very good, li'l bro. Lacks a certain sophistication, but I think that would be wasted on the Winchesters anyway." He snapped his fingers, and a carpet seemed to grow from the very floorboards. "They'll appreciate a few soft furnishings though.

"They could probably use a table, too," announced Crowley, for once using the door instead of materializing in his usual fashion. "Maybe something to sit on, too. I know I like that kind of thing, and I've been human, which is rather more than you lot have."

"For hell's sake," growled Meg, skirting Crowley warily to stand beside Castiel. "Someone give him a chair, or he'll whine and complain forever, and we'll still be doing this at New Year."

Another snap of the fingers and an armchair lined in red velvet appeared. Crowley smirked and took a seat. "Okay. Bring it in, boys."

A pair of large, muscular demons staggered in with a tree that had already been hung with decorations and dumped it down beside the fireplace that was located in the center of one wall.

  
  


"There." Crowley rose to his feet. "I'd like to tell you what a pleasure this has been." He paused and gazed at Meg for a moment. "I'd like to tell you, but that would be a lie, and I was always brought up to tell the truth and shame the devil." He blew Meg a kiss and turned to his cohorts. "Lead the way, guys," he said and made as if to leave. He paused on the threshold again and turned back. "Oh, speaking of the devil, Lucifer sent his apologies for today, but told me to tell you that he will make every effort to be at the party tomorrow. I'll look forward to that. Sayonara!" So saying, he faded out, his demon attendants with him.

"The nerve of him." Balthazar was pouting. "And look at the mess he's made of this tree." He gestured wide, taking in the tree with the curling blue tails and the creature sitting on the top. "Everyone knows it's supposed to have an angel on the top, anyway."

"It's fine." Gabriel gazed at it critically and then turned to survey the hearth to one side of it. "I think we should do a little decorating of the rest of the place though. Death will be along very shortly, and we really don't need him having to stand around waiting."

They went to town, pinning up greenery, hanging mistletoe from every possible place and distributing the haloes around the room after Raphael had managed to link them all together to create a shiny chain. Gabriel hung individual bottles of alcohol and chocolate baubles on the tree and tried to hang them on the tentacles too, although when they began to fight him for the booze he finally gave up. Meg, armed with a canister of fake snow, was happily drawing a very good likeness of Sam and Dean onto the window. 

Castiel frowned. "I don't believe that is a traditional Christmas activity you have them engaged in." He folded his arms and pondered. "Wouldn't snowflakes and stars be somewhat more seasonal?"

"There's always time for love at Christmas," murmured Meg, painstakingly depicting Sam's dick about to impale his older brother.

"I don't believe that Sam and Dean engage in such an activity." muttered Cas. 

"Sure they do," smirked Gabriel.

"And if they don't, it's about time they started. Anyone can see..." Meg drew the final line and tossed the now empty canister into the fireplace. "Besides, shut up! I'm a demon. I'm supposed to pervert people. It's my job."

Castiel appeared to accept that and wandered away to where Balthazar was directing Gabriel as he created a large table laid with a festive looking cloth and matching napkins and telling his annoying sibling to back off or be zapped.

Raphael was placing logs and kindling in the fireplace, and gave a yell as one of the tentacles on the tree gave his butt a furtive pinch. "Hey!" he growled, just as Tessa stuck her head around the door.

"Yoo hoo! Anyone at home?"

"Come on in." Gabriel's suit of lights lit up as he took her hand and ushered her into the room. "What do you think?" He gestured at the newly transformed squat. "Looking good, eh?"

She surveyed their handiwork, slowly turning to appreciate it all and paused, perplexed, as her scrutiny reached the tree. "Isn't it supposed to have an angel on the top?" she asked, stepping forward to peer at the little green monster sitting up there in pride of place. She squeaked and stepped back hurriedly when several of the tentacles began to fondle her inappropriately, whilst Cthulhu winked at her from his vantage point.

"That's just what I said." Balthazar nodded sagely. "Traditionally, I said, it's supposed to have an angel on the top. Didn't I say that?" He turned to the others. "It's definitely supposed to have an angel."

"Give it a rest." Raphael's voice was cold. "We're not finished yet." He made it a point to step over and pet the little monster on the top of the tree. "Where's the food?" He fixed Tessa with his brooding stare.

"Daddy will be along in a few moments," said Tessa. "He's been temporarily delayed by that earthquake over in the Philippines." She twirled, taking in the work that had been done so far and smiled. "I think that they're going to be completely astonished by what you've done here. This is incredibly different from the way it looked before."

"Absolutely." Balthazar nodded, preening as if he'd done the work all on his own. "I just think it needs an angel on the top of the tree, don't you?"

Tessa considered it, biting her lip. "I don't know. I kinda like the star," she said, and Balthazar drew a breath, opening his mouth to start arguing with her.

"If I may...?" The cultured tones of Death brought him up short and stifled anything further that he might have said. "There is a truck outside. I would appreciate assistance to import its contents, if you please."

The four angels and the reaper all trooped dutifully out to the truck to inspect what Death had brought. There were burgers, hot dogs, buffalo wings and pickles. There was pie, chicken strips and Twinkies apparently meant for Dean, and a large bowl of salad that was obviously intended for Sam. Morsel by morsel, it was transported into the ramshackle house and laid out on the table. Balthazar had found the beer and begun carting it in as well, stacking the flats full of cans beside the table, while Tessa brought in plates, spoons and knives. Meg loaded things onto dishes under Death's watchful eye.

"You forgot the candy," growled Gabriel, snapping a bowlful of assorted chocolate bars into existence, just as Crowley sauntered back bearing a large bottle of Jack Daniels with a gift tag on it. 

"It seems to me that my boys and I should contribute to the feast," he said, setting the bottle down under the tree beside the other presents that had been placed there and reaching for a fried pickle. "Barbaric!" he announced after a moment or two. "Is there anything on this table that isn't made of heartburn and meat by-products?"

"Touch Sam's salad, and you're a dead demon," growled Raphael, slamming a fork down prongs first onto the table as Crowley tried to filch a handful of peanuts. Crowley managed to snatch his hand back just in time.

"Crowley?" Balthazar clapped the demon overlord on the shoulder and gestured toward the tree. "Don't you think it ought to have an angel on the top?"

He didn't notice that Meg had inched forward to stand at his side, and so was startled when she and Crowley wordlessly grabbed an arm each and hoisted Balthazar up. Gabriel snapped his fingers to raise the ceiling by another few feet as the two demons sat Balthazar down atop the tree so that he was impaled on the very apex by his nether regions.

"Ow, Fuck!" A very unangelic expletive fell from the angel's lips, but then a beaming smile spread across his face. "You know, it feels kind of nice," he murmured, wriggling a little.

"Hush!" Tessa had been standing beside the door, and she was the first to notice the approaching Impala. "They're coming.

"Positions, everyone." The three angels hurried outside and took their position on the roof of the house, where they began a terribly off tune rendition of "Joy to the world."

"My Satan!" Crowley pulled a face. "Is that supposed to be a choir of angels? Because it leaves a lot to be desired in my book."

"It's Raphael. He can't carry a tune in a bucket," announced Balthazar from inside the house. 

The Alpha Vampire, who had been lurking in shadows as was his wont, gave a shudder. "I gave up strangling cats because they made sounds like that," he said, posing moodily. 

"They're here," hissed Tessa, who had turned all the lights out and was waiting for the brothers Winchester to emerge from the car. When they finally did, they were arguing as usual.

"Yeah, Sammy, but you're not the one that got the face full of ectoplasm," Dean was saying. "I swear to God, I got ectoplasm up my nose. That's just nasty."

"At least it didn't try and drop you through the floor into the septic tank." Sam seemed to be soaked from the knees down, and his pants legs were giving off a somewhat unappetizing aroma.

"Yeah." Dean brightened up at that. "That was kinda funny, but..." At that moment, the heavenly choir burst into what passed for song again, with "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," and both men looked up, aghast.

"What the hell are you supposed to be doing?" Dean glared at Castiel, who was nervously attempting to avoid his gaze. 

"Bringing you Christmas cheer on the eve of our Lord's birth," murmured Cas, his voice growing fainter with every word until it finally trailed off into silence.

"Well, stop it." Sam folded his arms and frowned at them until they were quiet once more.

The two men shoved open the door, and Tessa flicked on the lights. Everyone inside yelled surprise, and the angels all began caterwauling once more. Dean's jaw dropped. Then he spied the pie and any negative thought that might have been uttered died a still birth. Sam, behind him, gazed, round-eyed, at the tree.

"Dude, there's an angel on top of the tree," he muttered. "No, really, there's an angel on the top of the tree."

"Good place for him." observed Dean, standing, surveying the spread. "Keeps him from making the place untidy." He reached for a particularly succulent cheeseburger with a sprig of holly sticking out of the bun. "This is awesome."

All around him, the other occupants of the room began high fiving each other, and Death reached for a pizza, tucked a napkin into his collar and began to eat. As everyone relaxed, Dean suddenly looked up from the large slice of pie he'd just taken. "I'm guessing this was Cas's doing?" he said, looking around at everyone.

"It actually was," said Meg. "He's a sap."

Both brothers looked at Castiel, who was shuffling his feet in a shifty manner.

"Thanks, Cas." They spoke in unison as they grabbed for more of the food. "Best Christmas ever."

The End


End file.
